


various storms and saints

by phenomenology



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Coffee, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Missing Scene, Protective Beauregard, basically beau comforting caleb, empire siblings have my whole heart, just some quiet bonding, sort of kind of a character study, they continue to have my whole heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phenomenology/pseuds/phenomenology
Summary: She hadn’t been lying to Caduceus before when she said she felt good after leaving the nightmare that was the Happy Fun Ball. She was comfortable and familiar with the fringes of disaster, chest deep in danger and fueled by the adrenaline of survival. But this…this aftermath in which she was the only one reveling in the ache of sore muscles and bruised knuckles and being alive while everyone else felt miserable – this was where she faltered.post c2e45: The Stowaway
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 14
Kudos: 132





	various storms and saints

The deck was saturated from the storm brewing steadily fiercer around them. Beau had parted ways with Caduceus just before the skies opened up in a torrential downpour, and she was distinctly relieved to not have to smell his wet fur. She loved the dude, but after the day they had had, that was the last thing Beau wanted to experience.

Hunched against the wind as she kept a firm grip on the wheel, Beau hoped she was doing this right. She hoped she wouldn’t let Fjord down by steering them wrong in the rain and dark of night. Beau had been working hard at training to be his first mate. The last thing she wanted was to fuck up when he entrusted her so easily with the helm.

At some point though, the rain and wind become too much and she’s not sure where Orly came from, but the Tortle lumbered to her side and took the wheel. Beau shouted over the rain and wind, asking if he needed her to stick around. But the old Tortle simply waved her off and told her to stay dry below decks, that he would fetch her if he needed her assistance.

Grateful for the reprieve, even if it seemed like she was abandoning her post, Beau scurried with care down the slick stairs to the main deck. Aiming to get below as quick as possible, Beau focused on her steps, dodging puddles as she went.

And really, if she hadn’t been steeped with guilt, eyes flicking around to spot any crew members that might see her, Beau wouldn’t have noticed Caleb.

He stood pressed underneath the overhang to the doors that lead into an above deck storeroom. His arms wrapped tight around himself, bandaged fingers twisted into the worn fabric of his dirty coat and clinging with a tension that Beau saw even through the rain. His eyes were fixated on the middle distance, lost at sea among the turbulent waves.

She almost bypassed him, almost ducked below decks and left him there alone—but something stopped her. It sounded like Caduceus’ voice in the back of her head.

Ducking under the overhang beside the wizard—finding the space surprisingly dry—Beau gave Caleb a moment to register her presence (which he did not do). She reached out to nudge his arm with her elbow, gentler with him than she would have been a few months ago. Beau flashed him a half grin when bright blue eyes flicked her way as Caleb startled.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Beau offered, tone neutral. She didn’t push it when Caleb nodded wordlessly, his fingers trembling (not from the cold, she could tell) against his coat. They stared silently out at the rain hitting the deck. They watched the waves that tried to climb up the sides of the ship and mount the deck for what felt like a short infinity. Eventually, Beau’s clothes started to cling in a chilling and unpleasant way to her skin. She knew she needed to go sit by the fire and warm up, but she was also reluctant to leave Caleb alone.

With a restrained sigh, Beau turned her gaze back the wizard’s way and offered, “I know where they keep the coffee down below.”

It was not a question, and not quite an offer, but Caleb seemed to understand the implication behind it. Beau was asking if he wanted to join her, to get out of the cold, to talk if they found enough stability against the tossing and turning deck. He glanced sideways at her for a long moment before nodding decisively. They ducked out from under the overhang together and scurried through the slanting rain to get below decks. Walking at a more reasonable pace once they found shelter from the downpour, shoulder to shoulder, they headed for the galley. Caleb’s slightly curled hair dripped onto his coat’s lapels, but he seemed distant and unbothered by it. Beau made a mental note to set him up beside her in front of the fire.

(She wasn’t sure who had the brilliantly stupid idea of putting a fireplace on a wooden ship, but it seemed to work for them, so she wasn’t complaining.)

They arrived in the galley and Caleb seemed to lose all sense of direction, freezing a few steps past the entrance, blue eyes wandering around the empty room. Beau slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and curled careful fingers around his arm. He flinched, almost as if he forgot she was there, but he didn’t pull away. Beau took that tiny victory as it came and lead Caleb towards the fireplace, guiding him to sit about two feet away from the hearth. As she did, she took care to put his back to the fire. The last thing he needed was to stare into open flame.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Beau didn’t speak gently, because that wasn’t what Caleb needed right now. A gentle tone—from her, no less—would not keep him grounded. And Beau had never excelled at comforting people. But she knew a firm, quiet tone would be enough for Caleb to understand that her promise stood. She wouldn’t leave him alone.

He nodded absently, already absorbed in the grain of the wooden floorboards in front of him. Beau hesitated for a heartbeat, taking his slouched posture in, before striding off to make coffee. She did not consider herself a cook, but she was self-sufficient enough to brew a pot of coffee without fucking up. They had been drinking Caduceus’ tea for long enough that she worried about a very probable caffeine buzz, but she also didn’t really give two shits. It was cold, and they were soaked, and this was what they had.

A few minutes later found Beau pouring out two mugs of coffee. The steam curled lazily off the dark surface and the smell of roasted beans wafted heavily through the kitchen. It was oddly calming, and she felt some rigidity release from her shoulders she hadn’t realized she’d been holding on to. Carrying one in each hand back out to Caleb, Beau was both relieved and a little worried to find Caleb in the exact position she had left him.

Dropping with grace down beside the wizard, the mugs barely sloshing at all, she all but shoved one into his face. Caleb startled as the steam drifted across his cheeks. He turned to her with wide eyes for a brief second before looking back down at the mug and taking it with slightly shaky fingers from her hold.

Once her hand was free, Beau reached around to leave a careful pat on his shoulder. A simultaneous test for the dampness of his coat and his level of tolerance for physical contact. The coat already seemed significantly drier, thanks to his proximity to the fire (Beau herself could feel the pleasant heat crawling up the exposed skin of her back already). Caleb also gave a minuscule flinch at Beau’s touch, but it seemed to be more a result of instinct than a genuine attempt to get away from her.

Either way, Beau withdrew her hand and wrapped her fingers around the warm ceramic of her mug. The heat of the coffee inside burned at her chilled fingertips, but it felt good, grounding.

Glancing from the corner of her eye at Caleb, she saw him staring again at the floor, entirely lost in the intricate swirling of the floorboards. She hated to think of him lost in a similar maze of his mind. And despite how much she would outwardly protest it, she and Caleb shared very similar trains of thought. Beau expected everyone to hate her because she hated herself first. In the same vein, she knew Caleb harbored a similar sentiment. They had conversed often enough for Beau to pick up on the intricacies of “Caleb-speak” and most of his little tells.

She wanted to reach out and say something, but every sentence starter that presented itself sounded far too coarse—even for their usual level of banter. Again—she was not good at comforting people. Beau was sharp edges and biting wit, forged from a childhood that taught her everything except kindness. She was familiar with falling, used to hitting the ground, used to bruises and scraped knees and disappointment. Beau held intimate familiarity with empty, grasping palms and hollow words. Beau had incubated in forced isolation and firm rules enforced from a distance. And while she and Caleb understood one another, his isolation seemed more self-inflicted, a punishment of the self-flogging nature. His torment had also been more hands on, fingers wrapped with bruising intent around his neck like a collar, cruel intent his jerking leash.

Beau knew how to protect him, but not how to comfort him.

Caduceus’ voice was suddenly in the forefront of her mind; their conversation from earlier coming to a head.

_We’re going to comfort everybody, we’re going to take care of ‘em, we’re gonna feed ‘em, and it’s going to be our job to feel good for them. They did good work, they just don’t believe it._

Her eyes flit to the mug in Caleb’s hands. It wasn’t quite food, but it was warm and it counted as comfort. It was taking care of him. She hadn’t been lying to Caduceus before when she said she felt good after leaving the nightmare of the Happy Fun Ball. She was comfortable and familiar with the fringes of disaster, chest deep in danger and fueled by the adrenaline of survival. But this…this aftermath in which she stood as the only one reveling in the ache of sore muscles and bruised knuckles and being alive while everyone else felt miserable—this was where she faltered.

This was where she ran out of words.

_You did good._

More of Caduceus’ words, offering her a beginning to a conversation she had no roadmap through.

Bringing the mug of coffee to her lips, Beau stared out over the empty galley and spoke to the steaming surface of her coffee, words directed at Caleb.

“You did good, you know. In the Happy Fun Ball.”

Caleb sat quietly for a few heartbeats before he shifted in Beau’s peripheral and muttered, “do not lie to me, Beauregard.”

“Fine, you did a piss-poor job in there.”

Startled by her abrupt change, Caleb turned his head to look at her fully, blinking and studying her profile like he was trying to figure her out. (Which she found absurd, because out of everyone in the Nein, he was the one that got the most honest version of herself.)

“What?”

“That’s a lie, man—you _did_ do a good job. You protected us in that first chamber, watched our backs. You were cautious and explored as much as you could in the study, and you got books out of there, right? That’s valuable shit between those pages, I’ll bet. And Nott told me what happened after you guys got to the room with the dragon—after I left.”

Caleb gave a visible, violent flinch at that, his bandaged fingers tightening around his mug as he averted his gaze from Beau. She didn’t know what he expected her to say, but he clearly thought she was disappointed in him or something.

“She said you left as soon as you could, that it looked like everyone else had cleared out of the room. Nott said you protected yourself.” Beau looked directly at Caleb as she spoke. The wizard looked like he might be on the verge of being sick right into his coffee mug.

“I’m glad you did.”

That was the exact opposite of what Caleb prepared himself to hear, because he turned towards her sharply. He opened his mouth, as if to protest. She cut him off before he got the chance.

“I was the first to leave, you know.” He stopped, stared at her. A hint of bitterness toward herself built with a rapid ascent in Beau’s chest. “It was entirely unintentional, I just didn’t know how the sphere worked. I thought we would have to mess with it like we did to get in here. But the second I touched it, I was gone. I gave Fjord shit for touching things recklessly and then went and did the same thing.

“And I know it’s not the same as what you think you did wrong, but I’m kicking myself a little for not staying longer and helping Jester out more. Whatever she isn’t telling us clearly fucked with her. But also, that dragon was no joke. I was pretty fucking useless seeing as I’m the only one in this group that doesn’t have magical powers. That dragon would’ve killed me. So in a twisted way, I’m glad I left when I did. And we are glad you took care of yourself and got out of there as soon as you could. No offense—because you’re pretty powerful—but that dragon would have ended you in one shot.”

Caleb seemed stuck looking at Beau, his blue eyes frozen, locked on her features. She got the distinct impression he was searching every shift in her expression for some sign that she might be lying. Beau stared evenly back at him, quelling the self-hatred in her chest. As much as she wished she could have offered her friends more protection in there, _that was a fucking dragon._ At the end of the day, she was just a human with nothing but her fists and her staff.

And at the end of the day, Caleb was just a human who was remarkably easy to hit.

The silence stretched a little longer, and Beau worked hard to not fidget, to not be the first to look away. She wanted Caleb to believe her. None of them begrudged him for leaving as quickly as he did. Hell, half of their party had already left by the time he did as far as Beau knew.

Caleb opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to argue, before a resigned exhaustion settled into the lines of his features.

“Thank you, Beauregard,” he all but whispered before lifting the coffee mug to his lips and finally taking a sip.

Beau wasn’t sure it counted as a victory, but she took the point and shifted a little closer. Pressing their knees together in the galley's silence, the fire crackled and popped behind them.

“You did good, too,” Caleb’s voice just barely registered with Beau, he spoke so softly. When it did, she turned a quiet, startled glance his way. He evidently noticed, as the corner of his mouth quirked up with a tired lilt.

“I see you do good day after day,” he continued in that same quiet tone, making Beau feel like something in her chest tightened, like she might cry. “You should be proud.”

Beau fumbled for something to say. She came up empty and instead took a big swig of her coffee, pretending it didn't burn her tongue as badly as it actually did. She decided the safest thing to do instead of speaking around the lump in her throat was to lean over and give Caleb’s shoulder a gentle shove with her own.

They remained silent as they finished off their coffee. The dulled sound of rain hitting the deck above their heads and the fire snapping behind them kept them company. Beau sat content, knowing Caleb understood what her gesture meant.

_Thank you_.

**Author's Note:**

> don't mind me just dumping my feelings about the empire siblings in the form of several one-shots. please enjoy <3
> 
> **EDITED 2/7/21 so that it actually makes sense!


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